Dreading Downfall
by The What-If Writer
Summary: ONE-SHOT: Pre-Deadlocked. A bored Ace Hardlight decides to observe one of the new contestants, and finds himself slightly unnerved.


_Connected to all my other Ratchet and Clank fics- namely 'Lifeforce' and 'Dread-Test Write.' Consider it a practice to try and help get my motivation for it back ^^'_

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Dreading Downfall

The containment suite was desolate and silent. The helper bots for the contestants had retreated to their own little quarters, leaving whoever dwelt in their prison alone.

It was worse when it didn't look like a dungeon for some reason. Maybe it just made it more maddening. Clean, light and smooth, the suite wasn't at all luxurious- but not dark or dreary.

Yet it mocked people with it locks.

Sometimes Ace Hardlight would come to the suites to get a look at newer contestants. Most of the time he didn't bother; they were mostly generic and they'd all vow to win their freedom and bring him to justice. His nose wrinkled that the word. Yeah right. Like that word meant anything anymore.

A small pitter-patter sound alerted him of the occupant, and he turned his lean head to the source. The quick footsteps carried their small body into view, who in turn was carrying a bunch of scrap metal.

The lombax had to have been the youngest contestant he'd ever seen; no older than thirteen perhaps. His cat-like face still bore the smooth, fluffy fur of a child, those eyes big and light blue- maybe he would get some people on his side that way.

Ace sneered to himself. Fans, maybe- but Exterminators would squash him flat.

He cleared his throat snidely as the small 'lombax' moved across his view towards a table nearby; one usually reserved for the helpers that guided contestants through death traps. He coughed again, folding his arms, and still the one-eared lombax did not hear him.

Finally Ace lost his patience and stormed forward. Then the kid saw him alright.

Alarm appeared on his face before his expression twisted into a scowl, even though he had to crane his neck to look up at him.

Ace glared down at him without any pity, then raised his visor to make better eye-contact with the runt. "So, this is what they're dragging in now, huh?" He laughed lowly to himself as the kid's scowl deepened.

"Who're you?"

It was curt and dismissive, and that was something the famous gladiator wasn't used to as of late- nor did he like it. He dropped his visor back over his eyes and bent down to the kid's level- but even then he was below his eye-sight.

He poked him in the forehead, "I'd watched my mouth if I were you, Runt. Ya could get hurt." He added another, harder jab, and sent the kid stumbling back a little. He shook his head; ears flopping like a dog shaking water from its fur.

"I'd jump of a BRIDGE if I was you."

Ace resisted the pleasant urge to practice football with the little pest. The only thing that kept the kid from flying into that wall was the fact he wanted to see him get pounded in the arena instead.

The two stood there, exchanging seething glares. It was clear they would never get along after this point.

Ace snorted and turned his back on the small lombax. "Whatever. This ain't worth my time."

"Aaw, gloating isn't as fun as it seems at first, huh?" The mocking purr came from behind. Ace scowled down at him over his shoulder, then at the scraps of metal he'd been carrying. He smirked, sharp teeth showing.

"Tryin' to escape, Kid?"

The glare didn't flinch. "Nope. I have a bomb around my neck, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed." Ace replied smoothly. He caught the lombax glancing at his own collar-free neck. But instead of surprise, he saw a mocking sort of scorn contort that youthful face.

"Dogs don't need collars after they've been trained, huh?"

Ace said nothing; his nose wrinkled in a sneer. The little fluff-ball grinned, tilting his head back and forth as it spread like a knife over butter. He turned and looked back at the scraps. Ace only glanced over them; something round and disc-like, a few belts. Nothing really escape-worthy.

There was something kind of unnerving behind that icy gaze, Ace couldn't quite put his finger on it. Unsettled would be the word. Part of his long-forgotten hero mind would have noted it was a look he'd seen in the eyes of prisoners; villains leering at him from behind the bars whenever he and the group tossed a new one in.

Such a prospect concerning a child was even more disturbing, but he thought no more of it. Some kids where messed up.

...

The One-Ear lombax hadn't noticed Ace come in; nor heard him. He would like to say that it was because he was busy focusing on the scraps he'd gathered from broken armour and weapons, but the twitch in his working ear seemed to remind him of the lack of another.

He had to admit that he didn't pay attention to the media as much as other kids did. Superheroes where...things he didn't believe in. Hardlight was apparently one himself once; judging by the low-down whispers he'd caught from the other 'contestants'. Guess the long-face tool was just an example of what he meant.

Heroes where materialistic. There was always something in it for them.

Looked like this 'Ace' didn't even hide it anymore.

One-Eared eyed the door like it was itself the disdainful orange-suited card reject. "...Assh*le."

A long, screeching bleeping sound rang above him and he spun around, ear down and pupils dilated. "Alright, newbie, get ready for the course!" The voice was gruff and dismissive. He was just another pig for the slaughter; not even glanced over. They knew he was going to die.

He'd teleported before he could even think of protesting- though really, what good would it have done? The harsh smell of damp rain forest and uncanny burnt metal hit his nostrils and wrinkled his nose as he appeared on the starting pad; a forestry course with built- in death.

Pin-pointed pupils surrounded by ice narrowed.

He wasn't going to die.

_See you afterwards, Ace..._


End file.
